Listen man, my parents tried, I don't blame them for anything. I mean, lookin back I guess they took a wrong turn with me but it wasn't really their fault. I had some issues ya know? I'm okay with all that now. I think mom saw it in me first, even then I could tell that she, uh, 'eyed me with suspicion'? I think that's right. She got hellbent on getting me to church for a while. That's why we started going ya know.
See mom and dad grew up Baptists but they got away from that sometime before me and my brother. Anyways, one summer, I must have been in second or third grade, it's a little fuzzy, I came back to the house with a cat. I killed it right. I don't really know why it just seemed okay. I thought maybe I would send it to heaven or hell or whatever. Just move it along. I remembered the preacher talkin about judgement and how God took care of all that. I can't ever forget that look from mom though, I can't describe it now. I saw it again after the thing.
Alright here's what happened, that's what you want right? One day in church that preacher got to talkin bout how dangerous the devil is. Like he's everywhere and stuff, always gunnin for ya. I thought to myself, "well I can't see him, how do I find him"?
That thinkin stuck with me for probly a few weeks I'd reckon. I was maybe eight or nine. I read my bible lookin for ways to see the devil. He shows up in there a lot but there aint nothin specific ya know? I believed then and I believe now that the devil will find you one way or another if you have a mind to get to him.
Mom took me with her to this store one day. It must have been some sort of like thrift store cause everything was old, I knew that. It was kinda dark in there and it had a smell. Well I found the book in there, or maybe it found me, huh. It was all like leather on the outside and I didn't really understand the words at first but I knew it was mine. When we were leaving, I just plopped it up on the counter with my mom's stuff. I don't think she even noticed it.
Okay man, yeah that book maybe did it but I'm not blaming it either. My brother. He was two years older, well two years and three months, I know that now, I've been told enough times. His bedroom was across the hall. That book? That book talked about gettin the devil to come out with a payment of blood, or some such. The closer the blood was the more likely it was to work. See, nobody ever found that book after it happened. All I've got is what I remember.
The knife came from the kitchen, I know that. I don't know when or how I got hold of it, but that's where it was to begin with. There was this picture, this drawing, in the book. It showed a person all splayed out and had some lines on it across the neck and the stomach like. My brother was asleep. I just drew some lines on him.
I don't wanna talk about that anymore. When I was done I looked back at the book. The words made sense to me like all of a sudden, ya know? I read those words out loud. It was slow and awkward. I'd probably laugh at myself if I could see it now.
There was some noise coming from my brother's closet. I was real excited. It worked right!? I opened it up and this blue, uh, thing was in there. I knew right off that it wasn't Him, but maybe like some helper or something. It, came out and looked real happy at first. I must have looked real nuts at the time, so I've gathered from the lawyers. Covered in blood and holding that damned knife with my brother all gutted on his bed behind me. The blue thing looked, well, scared. That was the last I saw of it too.